


wishes come true (not free)

by dayevsphil



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009 Era (Phandom), Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Ambiguous Relationships, Bodyswap, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayevsphil/pseuds/dayevsphil
Summary: Phil's fingertips had tingled. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, since some part of him was usually tingling when Dan was looking up through his fringe like that.He didn't mean to make the wish.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 49
Kudos: 130





	1. prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahappyphil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahappyphil/gifts).



> happy birthday keelin!!!!! today you get a prologue from the fic that you directly inspired me to write, and a huge thank you for being the sweetest person ever! 💖💞💖💞💖💞
> 
> happy 2021 to everyone else! another year, another self indulgent chaptered fic from daye. keep in mind that this is an au of dnp's actual lives, despite the setting, and that anything "incorrect" in their "canon" is simply because it's not supposed to be a memoir jdjdkdsk
> 
> no update schedule on this one, we post a chapter when it's done like men

Wishes are treated with a kind of reverence in the Lester family. Nobody can agree on how far back the stories go or how much of them to believe, but everyone has heard them a thousand times. Tales of various great-uncles who wished for heroism and died in wars; tales of far-flung cousins who wished for windfalls and received word of tragic inheritance. Some of the family members Phil has met treat 'wish' like a swear, like something that has true power behind it, but others have laughed it off and treated it like weirdly specific family folklore. 

Phil's immediate family has always been on the side of belief. His parents are Mulders about most things, and their inherent faith in things outside of human control had transferred to their children… eventually.

Martyn had gone through a skeptical phase. Phil had, too, and he's old enough now to admit that he did so because his brother had started questioning things that they'd been told their whole lives, and he'd thought his brother was the smartest, coolest person on the planet at that point.

"The house isn't haunted," Martyn had said, his confidence so convincing to Phil's preteen brain, "it's just bloody old."

That attitude had started to spill into different parts of their lives - belief in monsters, faith in higher powers, trust of their parents' judgment - and they'd probably both been insufferable for a few months because of it.

Then, one day, Phil had woken up to Martyn shaking him and crying and thanking every god with a name that Phil was okay. Apparently, an idle wish that his brother would leave him alone for a full day for once had resulted in a panicked search for Phil, who had been nowhere to be found until he woke up in bed twenty-four hours after Martyn's mean wish. 

Phil doesn't remember anything about that missing day, but he remembers how it made his brother change completely. He was protective, anxious, mindful about telling Phil he loved him. He had faith in the unknown again.

If Phil is honest, he hadn't entirely believed Martyn. 

Phil had always been a spacey sort of kid and Martyn had pulled a lot of little jokes on him when they were growing up, so there's always been doubt in the back of Phil's mind about his missing day. Couldn't it have just been a prank from his brother, and the seriousness their parents had treated it with had caused Martyn's shift in personality? 

Thinking back on it, it isn't as if Martyn has ever been a very good actor. Phil might have been gullible as a child, but he's sure he would have been able to tell if Martyn was giving him crocodile tears over the whole thing. 

Phil knows better than to doubt him now. His brother probably should have taken Home Alone as a cautionary tale to begin with, and Phil probably should have taken Martyn as one, too.

Still, it isn't actually Phil's fault that it happens. Well… it's _barely_ Phil's fault. He thinks the majority of blame lies with Dan.

Last night, he'd been talking to Dan. He spends a lot of his nights talking to Dan recently. It's like he blinks and suddenly hours have passed where they've talked about everything and nothing and sometimes fall asleep together, and Phil has been happy in a way he didn't know he could be.

They aren't anything specific to each other, not yet. They haven't gotten around to those conversations. Phil is content with knowing that Dan is the absolute highlight of his days.

Dan had been sitting up in bed, his overly large shirt in danger of falling off his shoulder, and Phil had been biting his tongue so that he didn't say anything that was totally inappropriate to say.

But then Dan had pushed a little bit, like he always did. Sometimes it felt like he was testing Phil somehow. He'd said, "You really have no idea how hot you are, huh?"

Phil must have made some kind of face at his own Skype window before he started messing with his fringe. He smiled a bit. "Nope."

"That's insane," Dan had informed him, trying to hide his blush behind a large hand. It didn't work - Phil could see the redness even in the dim light and terrible webcam quality, so covering part of his face wasn't going to help Dan. It was awfully fucking cute of him to try. "I mean, you look at yourself all the time, and you can't see it?"

Phil had shrugged. It was an awkward movement in his sprawled position on the floor, but discomfort was crawling up the back of his neck at the compliment. He'd never been great at receiving them, even when they were simple and affirming.

He still hadn't told Dan why his own physical presence and others commenting on it made him feel so weird. He wasn't sure if it was even relevant, yet, since they had no immediate plans to meet in person.

So all he could really do was shrug and say something like, "Yeah, I look at myself a lot when I'm editing but it's, like - it's nothing special. It's not like I look like you."

"Fuck off," Dan had huffed, but his shoulders had straightened in the pleased way they always did when Phil said something nice. The gaping neck of his t-shirt was hanging precariously onto one of his shoulders. Phil had seen Dan shirtless before, but it was something else entirely to be teased like that. 

"Shan't," said Phil. He smiled, and Dan smiled back like it was a reflex to do so. "You see yourself, too. You must _know_."

"Not the way you see me."

"Well, no, that'd be a little narcissistic of you."

When Dan smothered a loud cackle into his palm, Phil had felt warm and fuzzy all over. He had been too tired and too happy to pay overly much attention to the actual words they were saying anymore.

"Wish we could, though," Dan had said with the ease of someone who hadn't only heard the W word as a warning. "Like… if you could see the way you look to me? I swear, you'd never have a single moment of self-doubt again, mate."

Phil's fingertips had tingled. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, since some part of him was usually tingling when Dan was looking up through his fringe like that, but maybe he should have paid closer attention to it. Maybe then he wouldn't have responded, "That'd be nice. I wish we could, too."

The tingles had gotten worse. However, Dan's shirt had finally slipped and exposed one of his shoulders _and_ a good portion of his chest, so Phil had chalked the feeling up to that.

It isn't like he expected his first accidental use of the Family Wishing Magic to be used on something so… gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad because i forgot keelin's birthday was this soon oops


	2. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, thank you so much for the support on this one so far!! i hope you like what's next :'))

When Phil opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at an unfamiliar alarm clock. It's blaring far too loudly and far too early, and he has a brief moment of confusion before he hits the snooze. Maybe his parents were trying to get him out of bed before noon in a passive aggressive sort of way.

Then he realises that he can tell what the alarm clock says, which means he definitely fell asleep with his contacts in again. He reaches for his face to check, and pauses. Frowns. Tilts his hand one way and then the other.

Maybe he's actually still asleep. That would make more sense than his hand being different.

That's not the only weird thing. Phil blinks, and he doesn't feel any unusual dryness, which means he doesn't have overnight contacts in, and when his vision refocuses he realises that he isn't even in his own bedroom.

Definitely dreaming, then. He snuggles back up in the cocoon of blankets he's got wrapped around himself and drifts back to sleep, figuring that the dream will end the next time he opens his eyes.

\--

Of course, that isn't what happens.

What happens is this: the alarm goes off again, someone bangs on the door, a sharp voice tells Phil to get his arse out of bed before he's late to work.

Weird. Phil doesn't have a job. Also, he doesn't recognise the voice.

He doesn't want to get in trouble, even in a dream, so he calls back a yawning, "I'm up!"

His voice… doesn't sound right. He opens his eyes again, sees that unfamiliar alarm clock once more. If this is a dream, he's still in it - and he's absolutely not himself. His hands are the wrong shape, his voice is the wrong cadence, and he thinks he can feel a penis against his thigh when he shifts.

Phil wriggles out from his blanket burrito, frowning down at not-his-body with perfect vision that also doesn't belong to him, and tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

Another bang on the door. A new voice says, "C'mon, Daniel, mum won't drive you if you don't hurry!"

Phil blinks. He blinks again.

That _is_ Dan's bedspread. He recognises more and more things as Dan's as he looks around. Dan's stuffed animals. Dan's pile of laundry. Dan's nipples. Dan's room, Dan's body. Dan's life.

Dan's brother at the door, waiting for him to get up and go to Dan's job. He can't remember the kid's name to save his life.

"Er," he says out loud. He can hear it now, too, although Dan's voice does sound different echoing around his skull like that. "Not going, I'm ill!"

"Whatever," Dan's brother says.

The sound of him plodding down the hall again makes a fraction of the tension leave Phil. At least he doesn't immediately need to try and be Dan in front of the people who know him best. 

Phil looks down at himself again. He hikes Dan's duvet up to cover his chest, because it feels weird to see Dan's nipples when he doesn't have permission to.

He feels… remarkably calm. He's probably in shock.

This is _probably_ a dream, but on the off-chance it isn't, Phil reaches for the mobile on the nightstand. He's not exactly sure how one calls out 'astral projecting' to work, but he'll think of something that hopefully won't get Dan fired. 

The buttons on the mobile are weird to Phil, not exactly in the right spots, so it takes a couple of tries for him to find the contact for Dan's work and dial it. The person he speaks to doesn't seem to believe that he's sick, but they accept that he's not coming in without much fuss. 

When that's done, Phil stares at the ceiling some more.

This is Dan's ceiling. This is what Dan sees every night and every morning. This is so fucking weird.

It's especially weird because Phil rarely looks at ceilings with proper vision, since being horizontal tends to mean his glasses are flung somewhere hard to reach, and these eyes can see every tiny detail of the popcorn texture.

Dan's eyes.

It all falls into place for him then, so quickly and easily that it surprises him. It's as if Dan's brain _literally_ works faster than Phil's. 

Phil isn't stupid. He has trouble handling several distinct trains of thought and gets overwhelmed by a lot of new information coming at him simultaneously, but he isn't stupid. He doesn't think this means Dan is smarter than him, exactly; he thinks it means that their brains work differently from each other. It's weird to be shoved into someone else's brain, someone else's body.

So, all at once, Phil is able to make that distinction _and_ process the buckwild situation that he's in _and_ remember that he'd made a wish last night. They both had, he and Dan, but Phil is the one whose family has a whole lore about it. Phil remembers the wish, and he remembers the tingling sensation in his fingertips as he'd agreed with Dan. 

Phil bites back some hysterical laughter and squeezes his eyes shut. 

Okay. So, Martyn had been telling the truth this whole time. Phil owes him an apology or a fruit basket or something.

There seems to be an easy enough solution, now that Phil has processed what the problem is. With the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes so firmly that he sees spots, Phil whispers, "I wish I was back in my own body."

Nothing.

No tingles. No magic. All that happens is Phil's borrowed stomach letting out a hungry gurgle. Phil opens his eyes to confirm what he already knows, and a sinking feeling joins his agitated gut.

Alright. He fights to stay calm, thankful that whichever neurons in his own brain make him anxious seem to work slower in Dan's, and picks up the phone again.

He tries his own phone number a half dozen times before giving up. Phil's body can sleep through stampedes, so a gentle ringtone from the other side of the room won't do anything. He could try to remember his parents' new numbers, but he's not up for a potential goose chase. Luckily, his brother's number hasn't changed.

"Hello?" Martyn answers on the second ring. He sounds wide awake. Phil wonders if he even slept.

"Er, hey," says Phil. He feels sheepish, like he's done something wrong. Well - he supposes that he has, actually. He'd broken a long-standing family rule because he'd been feeling a little too gay and soft about a guy he isn't even technically dating.

"Who's this?" Martyn prompts when Phil gets lost in thought.

"Phil."

"You sound a bit weird," says Martyn, the coolly polite facade dropping as soon as he hears it's his idiot little brother on the line. "You feeling okay?"

"Not really," Phil says. He laughs, and then he isn't able to stop for a really long time. None of this is particularly funny, but he's gasping for air before long. Eventually he manages to speak, interrupting Martyn's increasingly concerned questions. "No, I - I - I made a wish."

Dead silence from Martyn. Phil laughs even harder. He can feel tears forming in the creases of his borrowed eyes and he wonders if Martyn thinks he's lost the plot. Maybe he has.

"What happened?" 

Martyn sounds so serious. It takes a little while for Phil to hiccup himself back to control, but his brother waits, probably stone-faced and pursed-lip about it all.

"I didn't mean to," Phil starts with. He can practically hear Martyn roll his eyes. "No, seriously, I didn't! I just wasn't thinking! But… I accidentally wished I could swap bodies with my friend."

"...Why?" 

Good question. Dan's brain offers up a lie immediately, as if it's used to coming up with bullshit on the spot.

"I just wanted to know what it was like to be a guy," Phil says quietly. 

That gets Martyn's voice to soften, and Phil almost feels bad for the deflection. It isn't a complete lie, but it definitely wasn't what was on his mind last night.

"Oh, bud," his brother sighs. "You are a guy."

"I wasn't thinking," Phil says again.

"Yeah, I get it." Martyn lets out a long breath, and Phil suspects that he doesn't know how to fix this any better than Phil does. "Did you have some kind of time limit on the wish? Guy for a day, that type of thing?"

"Nope," says Phil. "Sure do wish I'd thought of that."

"Don't joke," Martyn scolds him, but Phil can tell he's starting to find the situation a little funny. "Okay. I should wake up your friend, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah, but let me talk to him as soon as he's coherent," says Phil. "I don't want him to freak out more than he already will."

"You're never coherent," Martyn mutters. Phil can hear doors opening and closing down the line and then - "Oi! Phone for you, geddup!"

"Be nice!" Phil huffs.

"You don't respond to nice in the morning," Martyn says dryly. "I'm gonna get mum. Oi, here, Phil wants to speak to you."

There are a lot of noises as Phil gets shoved into Dan's mostly-asleep hands, and then there's an eerily familiar yawn in his ear.

"Hullo? Phil?"

It's unbearably strange to hear his own voice on the phone like this, but Phil pushes past it as best as he can.

"Dan, hey, yeah - something a little out of the ordinary happened last -"

"You sound weird," Phil's voice grumbles sleepily.

"I just sound like you."

"Don't sound like that," Dan says with another yawn. There's a beat, and he sounds a bit more alert when he speaks again. "I can't really… see. Anything. It's all just a bit… blurred."

"Glasses are on the nightstand," Phil offers helpfully.

"Don't need - oh. Where…?"

Dan trails off, and Phil knows that he's probably recognising the space as Phil's room by now, even if he hasn't put on the glasses. The bright duvet cover is fairly distinctive, and he imagines that Dan would be able to recognise it from their Skype calls alone. 

"You're in my body," Phil tells him.

Another beat. "Fucking excuse me? I'm what? This is a weird prank and I don't know how you pulled it off but -"

"Not a prank," Phil cuts in. "Family magic."

Dan makes a choked noise. "It's - _who_? Fucking _what_?"

"I didn't really believe in it either," Phil admits. "But I'm in your bed right now, piloting your body, and I'm kinda freaked out about it."

"You're at my _house_?" Oh, that was an octave Phil didn't know his voice could hit anymore. He winces at the sound of it.

"I can Skype you if you really think I'm lying," says Phil, "but you've got some pretty convincing physical evidence right in front of you."

"And there's no chance this is a weird sex dream?"

"My bedroom feature in your sex dreams a lot?" Phil grins, easily picturing the way Dan's face would go red at the question, but then he shakes his head to try and clear it. They've got bigger sharks to fry here. "You're in the body with magic now, try to wish us back."

"You don't have any bloody magic," says Dan, almost kneejerk in his skepticism.

"Please, Dan. Just try."

Dan huffs don't the line, but he doesn't keep fighting Phil on this. He says, "I wish we were in our regular bodies."

To Dan's credit, he only sounds a little sarcastic. Phil waits for a second.

"Did you feel anything?"

"Like fucking _what_?" Dan asks, exasperated.

"Like…" Phil gestures uselessly with his free hand. It's not like Dan can see him, even if he was able to convey anything coherent. "Like, I got all these tinglies in my hands. Kinda like when your limbs fall asleep, y'know? Pins and thimbles? Did you feel any pins and thimbles?"

"Needles," says Dan. "And no, I mostly just need to piss."

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Phil that they'd have to deal with that sort of thing. It seems obvious, now, but his borrowed brain had been busy going down sixteen different tracks.

"Oh," he says blankly. He has no fucking idea how to get out of this. He's in - some place near Reading that Dan hasn't bothered specifying yet, and Dan is hours away, so there's no chance of sitcom shenanigans even if he were able to come up with anything. His only real chance was for Dan to wish for it and for it to come true immediately, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen.

"Sorry," Dan is saying as Phil tries to think his way out of this corner. His words have gone all soft in a way that's uniquely Dan, even through the filter of Phil's voice. "Not really the way either of us wanted to see each other's dicks, I imagine, but you've left us with not a lot of choice here."

"Er," says Phil. There's really nothing for it. Dan was always going to find out sooner or later, and he's _certainly_ going to figure it out the moment he tries going to the toilet in Phil's body, so. "No, it isn't, but that's not - you don't actually - I mean _I_ don't actually, so right now _you_ don't actually, but I know you normally - but I don't, so right now you don't -"

"Phil, breathe. God, do I really sound like that when I get going?"

Finally, a straightforward question. "Yeah."

Dan laughs. It's so weird to hear that sudden bark of laughter in Phil's cadence. 

"So what is it? I know it's awkward, but I promise I'm not planning to grope you or anything weird."

"It's not that," says Phil. He can feel himself flush, and he curses Dan's body for blushing so easily. "Okay, so, it's like this. The body you're in right now? The - me? My body? It doesn't have a dick."

"Oh," Dan says. There's a beat in which Phil feels like he might just die, and then Dan asks, "What happened to it?"

Phil can't help but laugh. "Nothing happened to it, jesus. There wasn't a dick-removing accident. I just wasn't born with one. Dickless at birth, y'know, I've heard it's a condition half the population has."

"Oh," Dan says again, but he sounds like he actually understands this time. 

"Yeah."

Phil's heart is pounding way too fast. He knows he'd feel more anxious in his own body, which circulates anxiety as easily and quickly as blood itself, but he still doesn't feel _great_. This wasn't exactly the way he was planning to come out to Dan.

For a few seconds, Dan is scarily quiet. Phil has to remind himself that the brain Dan is working with right now is useless without caffeine, and processing everything might be taking longer than Dan is used to. 

He wipes his sweaty hands on Dan's sheets and waits for Dan to wrangle his thoughts.

"I get it," Dan finally says. "Alright, that's fine."

A stupid amount of relief flows through Phil. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dan says, in a tone that suggests Phil is asking stupid questions again. "Obviously. I'm sure I can figure out how to piss."

"That's not what I was -"

"I know," says Dan. "It's _fine_ , Phil. I do feel bad for you, though, because I swear to god my dick has its own autonomy and, like, a whole fucking agenda it doesn't share with me. So good luck with that."

He really doesn't sound freaked out about this particular thing at all. Taken aback at first, maybe, but Phil can see how the lack of caffeine and general insanity of the morning might have been at fault for that.

Besides, it's kind of nice that Dan is surprised. Most people Phil speaks to have known him since well before he started to pass as a regular dude, and he's always unsure if new people in his life can tell or not. Granted, Dan has only existed in a laptop screen, but he _has_ seen Phil shirtless and didn't even clock his scars for what they were, so.

It's nice. And Dan is nice, too. Phil feels so unbelievably safe, even with everything else going on, just knowing that Dan doesn't think this part of Phil changes anything.

"Alright, you should go do that," Phil says, pushing down the swell of sappy feelings that rises way too comfortably in his borrowed chest. "Have a coffee, see what my parents think about this whole thing. Then call me back in a bit and we can figure something out."

"Okay," says Dan. "What are you going to do?"

"I called out sick for us, so I dunno. Find something bright to wear and let your hair curl, I guess."

"You're pure evil," says Dan, but Phil can hear the grin in his voice. "Okay, okay. I can do this. I can totally do this. And I'll call you with some kind of fucking solution before my family all gets home, alright? With any luck, you won't have to talk to them."

Phil frowns a bit. "You don't think I can be a convincing you?"

"That's not the problem," Dan mutters. Before Phil can push for more on that cryptic statement, Dan says a quick goodbye and hangs up.

It's fine. The sooner that he speaks to Phil's family about the situation, the better. Still… 

Phil is the one left listening to a dial tone, clutching a phone that doesn't belong to him, and feeling very, very alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thank you to chicken and puddle for their continuous support in my google docs, and another huge thank you to everyone reading this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone has been so nice about this and it makes me look forward to writing more!! thank you SO much!!!!!!

The problem with being alone in Dan's house while he waits for Dan to call him back is that every little thing feels like a major invasion of privacy. Phil opens drawers at random until he finds a hoodie, and grabs some joggers from the floor to pull up Dan's long legs. His face flushes like he's doing something shameful, seeing so much of Dan's skin and Dan's room. Just opening Dan's sock drawer has heat crawl up the back of his neck.

It gets even worse when he leaves Dan's room - which he wouldn't do if it was up to him, but he has to eat something before his borrowed stomach decides to kill its new host - because he, at least, feels welcome in Dan's room. Going through Dan's things feels weird, sure, but Dan has invited him into the space via webcam a few dozen times at this point. Leaving that sanctuary makes Phil feel more and more like an intruder.

There are framed photos in the hallway of a family that doesn't belong to Phil, trinkets of African animals lining every available surface, and school handouts stuck to the fridge door.

Phil has not been invited into this place. This is all Dan's, and it isn't anything that Dan has shared with him yet.

He's deeply uncomfortable as he opens cupboards at random to find the cereal, because this might be a simple, necessary trip out of the sanctuary, but it's just a reminder that Dan has not opened this part of his life willingly.

Phil sits at the unfamiliar table and eats the health cereal without really tasting it. He has to eat two bowls before Dan's stomach stops complaining at him. He's heard Dan call himself a vacuum before, and he thinks he can understand that better now. 

He is essentially a guest in this home, so he makes sure he washes his bowl and spoon. His mum would be horrified if he left dishes in the sink pile at someone else's house, even if he's in a body that belongs there.

Phil hesitates. He's got nothing in particular to do upstairs, Dan's room just feels like the least invasive place to be while he waits. But… if he's already washing his own dishes, he might as well do the pile already in the sink, right? He shoves the sleeves of Dan's hoodie up and tackles one of his least favourite chores, just to take his guilt out on something productive. He leaves everything on the drying rack, though, not wanting to fuck up by putting things away wrong.

Phil stares at his hands. They're big, and soapy, and the lines on each palm are in the wrong places, and his brain starts feeling fuzzy the longer he looks at them. There's such a strong disconnect between who he is and who these hands belong to. 

The sound of a phone ringing jerks him out of it. He dries his hands off quickly, and then retrieves Dan's mobile from his hoodie pocket. His own face is the contact smiling up at him, which still feels quite bizarre.

"That was quick," Phil says, not bothering with polite greetings or whatever. He thinks that he can be forgiven under the circumstances.

"Has it?" Dan asks, bemused. "It's been nearly two hours, mate, you really expected that? I guess you know your family better than I do, because I sure as fuck didn't think it would take so long. They're really nice and everything, I swear, but _Christ_ , they can talk. Which, I know, pot and kettle, but - you there?"

Two hours? Where had that time even gone? Phil thinks about that fuzziness around the edges of his mind every time he'd zoned out, and he considers the possibility that Dan has some kind of magic of his own. That's the only explanation Phil has for how time seems to randomly speed up and slow down for him.

"Yeah, I'm here," says Phil. It's a beat too late for it to sound casual. "What's the verdict? Are we stuck like this or something?"

"We don't think so," says Dan, and that's bizarre, too - hearing him lump himself in with Phil's family so effortlessly. Phil is still trying not to make eye contact with all the strangers in photo frames around Dan's home. 

"Is that just wishful thinking?" Phil asks dryly. He leans back against the kitchen counter to steady himself a bit. The full force of anxiety over the situation is hitting him now, delayed, and he's even more certain that he's been in shock all morning.

"No, they seem sure," Dan says. "Your dad made some calls, everybody compared stories, it took for-bloody-ever, and the general consensus is that this type of wish doesn't tend to be permanent. Nobody died or got pregnant or anything irreversible, you just wished - what, to know what it feels like to be in a body with a dick or something, right? So it'll reverse itself when you feel like that's been accomplished. I mean, it all sounds like bullshit to me, but it's all I've got."

Phil bites his lip. So, Dan doesn't remember the actual wish. He probably assumes Phil made the wish after they'd hung up, since his ears wouldn't perk up like a hunting dog at the W word the way Lester ears do. Plus, it had been late, and they'd been flirting. 

Honestly, Phil doesn't even remember the exact phrasing. It was Dan who had said it, all Phil had done was agree with him.

Something about seeing themselves through each other's eyes? Well, that would sort itself out by the end of the day. They've got pictures of each other on their phones and in folders on their computers. Knowing his mum, she's probably already gotten Dan to show her a photo of himself so she could coo over what a handsome boy he is. So, surely, Dan has already seen himself through Phil's eyes. If that isn't enough, they'll probably Skype before bed like they always do these days.

Phil should wake up in his own bed tomorrow, even if he keeps the real wish to himself. There's no real point in sharing it with Dan and therefore his family.

Besides, Phil has already been forced to come out once today. He's not exactly raring for more. His family doesn't need to know, and he can tell Dan once the situation has resolved itself so they can laugh about it. No problem.

"Sounds good," is what Phil says instead of correcting Dan. "And sorry about my family, I know they're a lot."

"They're great," Dan says, like it isn't even a question. That makes Phil feel warm. "I think your brother might be fucking with me, though. Are you allergic to candy?"

"Not even a little. He's probably just hoarding it."

"Bastard," Dan says good-naturedly.

"You should probably get the bastard to help you with my shot," Phil says, toying with his hoodie strings. "It's only a weekly injection, at least, it isn't every single day or anything."

"Some kind of testosterone thing, yeah?" Dan asks with all the confidence of someone who knows the bare minimum about these things. 

"Pretty much. Take it before bed. Mar used to help me when I was still getting used to it, so ask him to show you."

"Sure," Dan agrees easily. "Whatever your body needs, mate."

"And there's - pills. In the bathroom. If you feel like you can't breathe, it's probably an anxiety attack. They'll help."

"Got it. Needles and pills. You're very rock and roll, Phil."

"Shut up. D'you take meds or anything?"

"Nah, that would involve my parents willingly bringing me to therapy," Dan says, far too cheerfully.

"Oh," is all Phil's got. 

Dan sighs, mostly through his nose. "I guess you'll have to meet them tonight."

"How should I act?" Phil asks, still bemused by Dan's reaction if it isn't a lack of faith in Phil's acting abilities.

Dan makes that sighing sound again, and then he laughs. There's zero real humour in it, and the sound gives Phil chills down the back of his neck.

"Just… don't talk a lot. You're pretending to be sick, so act… sick. And don't listen to a goddamn thing that comes out of my father's mouth, okay? He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about half the time."

"Okay," Phil says quietly. The chill has settled into his skin now, and he shivers. He hasn't heard Dan sound so cold about anything before; he hasn't heard his own voice like this, either. 

This must be why Dan doesn't talk about his family outside of funny stories and surface complaints. It doesn't sound like he even likes them.

"You think you can do that?" Dan asks. "You only need to go down for dinner, really, they'll leave you alone otherwise."

"Yeah, I can do that," says Phil. "Er, what's your brother's name? I forgot."

"Adrian. He probably won't talk to you anyway."

The cold anger has been replaced with something dismissive, and Phil doesn't know which one makes him feel worse.

"Okay," he says again, because he doesn't know what else to say. 

"I think your wish backfired, because my day looks a lot easier than yours," Dan jokes. He sounds a bit more like himself, but he seems to be having a harder time shaking it off than he usually does. That's not surprising to Phil - he doesn't typically get out of grumps that quickly, and he imagines something in his brain is dragging Dan down.

He doesn't draw attention to it, though. He doesn't want to turn Dan's mood even more sour. "You say that now, just wait until mum recruits you to watch soaps with her."

"Small price to pay," says Dan. "Hey, it'll be okay, right? Your family all seems pretty certain that we'll be back to normal by morning."

"I'm sure they're right," Phil says, and it's mostly truthful. "The weirdness of it all is just hitting me at once, I think."

"Yeah," Dan says emphatically. "I had that same moment after I downed some coffee."

"Maybe I should have some coffee."

"I wouldn't. When I'm already freaked, coffee makes it a million times worse. It feels like I'm dying, sometimes, so you should probably avoid it. Have some tea if you're in need of a hot drink."

"You're the expert," Phil jokes. Something in him settles when he hears Dan's sincere laugh down the line.

"I guess I am. Pretty lame thing to be an expert in."

"I dunno, becoming an expert on your body was already on my list of resolutions for the new year."

"It's October."

"So I'll get a head start."

Dan honks another laugh, and Phil's jittery anxiety calms down just a little more.

"Stop flirting in my voice, it's weird," Dan scolds. He doesn't sound like he means it much.

"Sorry," says Phil, but he doesn't mean it much either.

\--

Phil has no idea what to expect from Dan's family at this point, so the sound of the front door opening makes his heart race. He's sure that Dan would have warned him if it was _bad_ bad, but he's less sure that Dan would say anything if it was just… bad. Dan still has so much trouble accepting sympathy as something real and not condescending, so Phil has trouble reading between the lines sometimes. 

Still, Dan had said not to _listen_ to his father. It wasn't like he'd said to duck when they started swinging or anything.

Phil's pounding heart doesn't care about the logic of that. He wraps himself more fully in Dan's duvet, staring miserably at the made-for-telly movie that he'd thrown on.

The stairs in Phil's house creak every time someone tries to use them, so he jumps when someone manages to knock on Dan's bedroom door without making any previous noise. It's a newer build, he supposes, or just less haunted.

"Come in," he says, because he's meant to be sick and surely staying in bed is a point in that favour.

The door opens, and Phil realises somewhere in his mind that this is the first time he's actually met one of Dan's family members. She looks a bit like Dan, he thinks, but he knows from seeing the family photos around that Dan takes after his dad more.

Dan's mum leans against the doorframe, not coming any further into the room, and regards him with a shrewd gaze.

"You're ill?" she prompts without saying hello.

"Yeah," Phil mutters. He's having trouble looking her in the eyes, because what if she can tell that it's not her son in there? He gives a single, unconvincing little cough.

Dan's mum snorts. "Alright. You do look proper miserable and all, but you have to stop doing this."

"Doing what?" Phil asks when it seems like she's waiting for an answer.

"Skiving off work," she says. "You've got absolutely no motivation to do better for yourself, Daniel, and if you can't even get out of bed to go to Aldi then -"

"I'm sorry," Phil cuts her off, which is probably rude, but he feels a lump in his throat and a burning behind his eyes like he's going to start crying. Phil doesn't want to cry in front of a stranger. He doesn't really want to cry at all, but Dan's tear ducts seem to actually work, whereas Phil thinks his own had frozen up way back at his best friend's funeral.

Dan's mum doesn't seem bothered by the interruption. She doesn't scold the way that Phil's mum might, or even try to finish her sentence. She just sighs.

"You've got so much potential, Daniel," she says, and her voice is softer now. Quieter. "I hate seeing you waste it away."

"I'm sick," Phil insists, forcing himself to look her in the eye.

For a beat, he sits there terrified that she's going to see right through him. All she does is shake her head, though, breaking the eye contact first.

"Fine," she says. "I need you to watch Adrian. I have to get the engine looked at before it falls out of the damn car."

"I can do that," says Phil. He thinks he'd rather eat glass than continue this conversation, so he's going to say whatever he needs to as quickly as possible to make her leave.

"Good," Dan's mum says, looking distracted. Like coming in here to talk to her son was just another checkmark on a to-do list, and she's already thinking about the next thing. Before she closes the door again, she pauses. "And thank you, for washing the dishes. It means a lot."

Phil doesn't get a chance to respond to that surprising sincerity before she's gone.

\--

After that exhausting conversation, watching Adrian is like easy mode. The kid is too old to need constant entertainment, and he's happy enough to sit in silence together all evening. Every so often, he'll complain out loud about the CPUs being OP in the old racing game he's playing, and Phil has to wonder if he's picked up Dan's speech patterns through nights like this, or if they both got it from the same place. It doesn't seem like they spend much time together. In fact, when Phil tries to encourage a conversation by suggesting a different type of wheels to choose, Adrian's nose scrunches up in confusion. So he resorts to nonverbal responses, staring at Dan's laptop as if there's something fascinating on it.

The screen is dark. He's just looking at his own reflection. Adrian complains again, but he doesn't actually want a response from Dan. They've been in the living room for what feels like hours now, and Phil feels far more alone than he had while he was just sitting in Dan's room. 

Family dinner never happens. Adrian microwaves himself something and Phil eats more cereal without really tasting it. Phil washes their dishes, because it might be a horrible chore but doing so will make Dan's mum happier, while Adrian half-heartedly does schoolwork. Phil keeps looking at the clock as if it'll go faster on its own, but time is crawling by. 

There's definitely some magic in Dan. Phil has his own issues with timekeeping, but nothing like this. It's driving him up the wall.

"I'm going upstairs now," Adrian tells him while he's zoning out in the direction of the oven clock again. 

"Alright," says Phil. "When's your - I mean, when's mum getting back?"

"Like I know," Adrian says, disparaging in that way only twelve-year-olds ever manage to be. "Why are you just standing in here, anyway?"

"Dunno."

"Whatever."

Adrian leaves the kitchen. Phil wishes he knew how to handle this situation, but he doesn't. Everything is different and hard and time is wonky on top of it all.

He'll call Dan when he goes to bed. Dan makes everything feel like it's manageable.

Until then, Phil can't just stand here. In order to feel like he's still got some kind of handle on reality, he starts mechanically figuring out where the dishes go and putting them away.

It's a small thing, but he can only manage small right now. And maybe it'll prevent another uncomfortable lecture from Dan's mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone for keeping up with this and to puddle and chicken for helping me wrangle my sentences when necessary <333


End file.
